Celibacy a crime?
by Challenge-me
Summary: Fleur complains about her life, and how boys suck.


Challenge-think of someone that would bed down with angels, and would be cynical towards love.

Challenge completed. Fleur Dealcour.

Please review, and if you have any challenge for me, I'll try my best.

Fleur Dealcour ran her fingers through her silver blonde hair that was the trademark of being half veela. She would dance the entire night away, even if no one stopped to ask her to dance. She didn't need boys, not after what they had done to her. Boys were arseholes.

"Hey pretty lady, wanna dance?" a man with a torn open Hawaiian shirt and black pants asked.

"I'll dance, but you're not coming home."

"Ok, then you can come to my place. We could do some math, add a bed, subtract our clothes, divide your legs, and multiply."

"We're not doing anything. I don't even know your last name!"

"I'm Brad. Now can we go to your place? I promise I'm fun."

Fleur slapped him, and walked away. Damn it, why did she have to be half veela? People in general were pervs, and she had something inside her that attracted them.

She walked out of the club, knowing the stamp on her hand could get her back in, but also knowing she wouldn't want to go back in. Just as he was about to apperiate at her hotel room in Surrey, she was staying in England for awhile to improve her English, a guy walked up to her. "I have leather back seats in my car, wanna see?"

"No, I don't, if you don't get away, I'll scream!"

"Fine, bitch." he strutted into the club, and Fleur was happy she didn't have her wand, for if she did, she would have hexed him into oblivion, and would have gotten in trouble.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she went back to the motel. Her roommate, Angelique took one look at her, and asked, "Rough night?"

"Hell yeah. why do people think celibacy is a crime? I was at the club for only 4 hours, and I must have had at least 10 invitations for sex. I'm so close to putting a penis shrinking charm on them all, god help the next person that asks me."

"Personally, I'd go for the itching spell. Guys with small dicks will still want to get laid, but if they can't stop scratching, they'll be too busy."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I have to go on a shoot tomorrow, if you're not doing anything, you wanna come keep me company?"

"Sounds good. Night Leek."

"Night Flower."

The next day they both travelled to the photographer. they both had a lot of money to travel on, but they wanted more, and Angelique was pretty enough to have starred in several commericals at home, so she tried out for shoots here. She of course got them, and they offered Fleur, but she didn't want to. She hated how everything was about looks.

They wrapped Angelique in lavender gauze, and used some sort of removable glue to put wings on her. She had three men around her, one brown haired, one blonde, and one black, also with wings. They all had little gold shorts on, and they spent the rest of the morning, almost 5 hours, in different poses.

Things were brought in, like fluffy chairs that looked like clouds, and beds covered in white gauze, or harps. Fleur shook her head and laughed. It was amazing how erotic a scene they made these angels, and wondered if things were really like that, up in heaven. Finally, there was a break for lunch. Angelique ate a doughnut, but the blonde boy walked over to Fleur.

"Vous êtes la chose la plus belle que je jamais ai vu. Je peux être habillé comme un ange, mais si je suis l'ange, vous êtes ma déesse." (You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I may be dressed as a angel, but if I am the angel, you are my goddess.)

She raised her eyebrows, and said, "Un Américain, parlant le français? Stupéfiant." (An American, speaking French? Amazing.)

He replied, "J'étais l'américain simplement né, j'ai voyagé à Paris puisque j'étais enfant. Si vous voulez être regardé dans la bonne façon dans ces affaires, vous devez être sophistiqué. Personne est plus sophistiqué alors le français, donc je vais là-bas." (I was merely born american, I've been travelling to Paris since I was a child. If you want to be looked at in the right way in this business, you have to be sophisticated. No one is more sophisticated then the French, so I go there.)

"Et vous pensez que je suis beau?" (and you think I'm beautiful?)

"Je ne pense pas, je sais. Aimeriez-vous un verre de vin?" (I don't think, I know. would you like a glass of wine?)

"Sûr." (sure)

They walked over to the lunch table, and the man poured Fleur a drink.

"Le coup manqué, quel est votre nom? Pas qu'un simple mortel devrait être orné avec le moniker d'une déesse." (Miss, what's your name? Not that a mere mortal should be graced with the moniker of a goddess.)

"L'arrêter. Je ne suis pas une déesse, je suis une personne. Et si ceux-ci sont juste des lignes, l'accorder des lignes merveilleuses, je veux que me vous soit parti seul. Je n'obtiens pas dans n'importe qui couche, n'importe quand bientôt." (Stop it. I'm not a goddess, I'm a person. And if these are just lines, grant it wonderful lines, I want you to leave me alone. I'm not getting into anyone's bed, any time soon.)

"They aren't lines. I'm not a virgin, and I doubt you are, but I haven't had sex in over 5 months, I'm not about to waste it with anyone I don't care about. I was merely suggesting we get to know each other better. Possibly have a dinner or something."

Fleur did go and have dinner, and they fell in love. About a month or two later, they bedded with each other, and it was glorious. It was almost like her first time again, except at the end he didn't kick her out of bed, smack her on the butt, and tell her she was a good fuck.

They stayed together for a bit, but they started to drift, and once again Fleur realised sex just messed people up. Intimacy was bad, and the only way to not get hurt was to sleep with yourself, in your own bed, by yourself.

So, now she went to clubs, and just laughed at the rest of the stupid girls. Some of them were hailing cabs with boys they had just met, before they were even done their second drinks.

Sure she was fond of some of them, the ones who bought her drinks, and actually treated her like a person instead of a slab of meat, but her best intentions, ever since she was a prepubescent, never turned out right, so she never accepted offers.

"You realise that means you'll never find that 'homme parfait'." Angelique told her once.

"There is no perfect man."

Sleep with Myself

Ya I'll dance with you for a while   
But I'm not going to take you home   
I don't even know you last name   
Let me explain   
  
Been around the world a thousand times   
Been swept away on distant shores   
Bedded down with angels   
Drank their wine   
And always the conclusion is the same   
Making love is always grand   
But eventually   
Love ends a losing game   
So let's leave it alone   
I'm going home   
  
I'd rather sleep with myself tonight   
Where no one else can harm me baby no   
Oh Oh   
Although I'm really quite fond of you   
My best intentions never turn out right   
I'd rather sleep with myself tonight   
  
People think celibacy's a crime   
Not saying I won't love again   
But couldn't we just talk for a while   
And lately intimacy's got me down   
Been hurt so many times before   
Jumped the gun and ended up alone   
It may sound a little funny   
But you gotta know

I'd rather sleep with myself tonight   
Where no one else can harm me baby no   
Oh Oh   
Although I'm really quite fond of you   
My best intentions never turn out right   
I'd rather sleep with myself tonight

dont take it personally

it's just the way it's gotta be  
  
The information age   
Things move so fast   
Fax machines   
Computer screens   
Seems like love   
Is something of the past   
And modern boy   
Got one thing in their head   
Before you down your second drink   
You're in the cab   
And then you're in her bed   
So let's hold off on the sex play   
I don't even know your last name   
  
I'd rather sleep with myself tonight   
Where no one else can harm me baby no   
Oh Oh   
Although I'm really quite fond of you   
My best intentions never turn out right   
I'd rather sleep with myself tonight

I'd rather sleep with myself tonight

I'd rather sleep with myself tonight

I'd rather sleep with myself tonight

sleep with myself

sleep with myself

sleep with myself


End file.
